


Mrs. Holmes

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Early Work, Homeless Network, John is a genius, Mrs Holmes - Freeform, Multi, Not a Sherlolly shipper, Serpent's Tooth, Sherlock and Molly are married, They live with John, real science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: I'm not a Sherlolly shipper to be frank. But in early days when I was on another site. Many readers asked me to write Sherlolly stuff. This was before they even had a word for it. So I did. This has been hanging on my computer forever and I thought I'd put it up. The science is real, but I don't think anyone is using it yet. Enjoy and please to leave your kudos and comments to feed the author.





	Mrs. Holmes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlolly shippers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sherlolly+shippers).



Well hello, Mrs. Holmes,” John said looking at the brand new Mrs. Holmes as she walked into the flat. “And how are you this morning, Molly?” 

“Happy,” she smiled beatifically and took a seat across from John. Both are dressed in their gowns and slippers.

“I hope your first night together was…well received? Not meaning to pry, Molly. I did give Sherlock a crash course in sex, sensuality and female anatomy.”

“Sherlock is a fast learner, John. I would never have guessed that it was his first time. No premature ejaculation, tons of foreplay.” Her smile broadened and she looked so delightfully lovely.

“I’m so glad.” John is visible relieved.

“I’ve made breakfast downstairs, John. We want you to come and join us. Sherlock says breakfast is always better with you around.

“I think he mainly says that because he tries to wheedle me into doing the dishes.”

“Please, John, we are all family and always will be.” Molly can coax an oyster out of its shell and John is not encased in shelling.

“Well, I’ll just get dressed.”

“Oh, no need, we’re all in our robes and slippers. It’s just a good old fashion breakfast, John.” Standing Molly takes John’s hand and they walk to the stairs, then single file down to 221C the basement apartment that Mrs. Hudson despaired of ever renting.

With much work by Molly and John, the lower flat was now quite cozy, decked out with some of Molly’s feminine influence here and there. 

The upstairs flat remained the domain of the gents. Sherlock had turned John’s bedroom into his science lab and the kitchen had turned back into a kitchen. Sherlock’s old bedroom is now John’s. Both flats contain three nice comfy chairs set around the fireplace. The smell of a full on English breakfast enveloped them as they descended.

“Morning neighbor,” John chimed as he entered the flat smelling of sausage, eggs, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and even some black pudding. Toast on the side and a huge pot of tea.

“John, good to see you, will you have time to type up the case notes for last week. I think Greg wants to see them on his desk by the middle of the week?”

“Sherlock let me at least stuff myself with a good breakfast before you shuttle me off to the salt mines of work.”

“Of course, John, by all means stuff yourself as completely as you can. I think you will find that Molly is the most prodigious maker of breakfasts in all of London.”

“Sherlock, it’s just a plain breakfast.” Molly blushes lightly.

John is taken aback; Molly and Sherlock look like a comfortable husband and wife. And he, John Watson, felt quite warm and well cared for by two of his best friends; John’s cranky old Sherlock and the loving, lovely and beautiful beyond words, Molly Holmes. Dr. Molly Holmes. What a wonderful couple they make.

After breakfast Molly readies herself for work and John retires upstairs to dress and make ready for the work that he and Sherlock had yet to perform today. Sherlock came up dressed and prepared to plunge head first into the current cases on their board. Sherlock’s mobile rang.

“Shall I answer your mobile,” John says as he reaches for the mobile and answers it. “Mr. Holmes’ mobile this is John Watson.” John’s tiniest bit of sarcastic humor evident. “What? No she isn’t here. She left nearly an hour and a half ago. I will inform Sherlock, immediately. Thank you.”

“Sherlock, Sherlock! Stop what you are doing, NOW.”

“What is it John? This isn’t a good time, really.”

“Sherlock, Molly never made it to work. She’s missing.”

Sherlock looked strangely stricken. “John that can’t be she just stepped out the door.”

“I’m going to check with Greg and see if she’s been in an accident or something.” John speed dialed Lestrade.

Sherlock sat in disbelief. His new wife is missing.

(-_-)

Greg was totally wrong footed by the news. He is in the flat with John and Sherlock. The worlds only consulting detective is pacing back and forth in great agitation.

“I was worried that something like this might happen.” John’s thoughtful expression borders on sad. 

“Yes, you did mention it, John, but I was too engrossed in being a new husband, I let this happen.” Sherlock is being exceptionally hard on himself. His guilt thickens the air.

“Sherlock, we need to focus. Molly’s out there, alone.” John gently brings Sherlock out of his self-recrimination and back to the present.

Sherlock stares at John knowing he is absolutely right.

(-_-)

Molly lay on a piece of foam that was thrown in the corner of a dismally empty room. She has awoken from her chloroform induced unconsciousness to find herself held captive by persons or persons unknown. Oiy, she is starting to think like her genius detective husband; this is bad, he would be worried. Shite, everyone would be worried and she had only herself to blame. She always took different routes at different times. But she’d been looking for a gift to give John; his birthday is coming up soon. He is such a love putting up with Sherlock all these years and she had stopped briefly before work to look at some things. She’d been so absorbed in her search, she’d let her guard down. Something Sherlock had trained her not to do from the beginning of their relationship.

“There are people, Molly, that would give anything to do me injury, and hurting my heart by hurting you or John wouldn’t be beyond them. Do as I request. Be aware of your surroundings at all times as you move through the world. Be safe and always come home to me.”

She had made him that promise. How could she not keep her promise? She had to try, so many people loved her and if she were to be injured or killed, it would shatter Sherlock and by way of their friendship, it would devastate John as well; for they were closer than brothers and much more than friends.

Rising to her feet, she is a bit unsteady, but nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. She examined the room carefully. There was one window and one door. The room itself was old, you could tell by the smell and the mere age of the wood, this was an older piece of the world. She couldn’t see out the window, it was too high, but she could yank herself up to it.

Steeling herself against any fright, she was Dr. Molly Holmes and she had to get back to her boys. No, her men and her life. Nothing and no one would stand in her way. She went back to the large foam grabbing it she dragged it to the window. She threw it up and covered the glass and with a rage of intent, she shattered the old glass with a blow from her hands. 

The window shattered outward, she used the sponge to break away any remaining shards of glass in the windowsill and hoisted herself up and out of the window using the sponge as her ladder and her safeguard. She was free. She had absolutely no idea where she was but she was no longer confined by anyone.

“I’m coming home, Sherlock. I’m coming as fast as I can.” Molly moved into the seedier side of the city. She had never ventured this way before, she strengthened her heart and thought of Sherlock and John looking to find her and bring her home. She rushed away into the approaching twilight. She would lose that light soon. She turned up the collar on her coat and found she still had her gloves in her coat pocket. She was reminded of a certain consulting detective that did the same thing in the cold darkness and her heart heated with the love that she felt for him.

(-_-)

Sherlock’s homeless network had moved beyond the confines of the 20th century. With the exorbitant and obscene amounts of money that John now collected (with Sherlock’s okay) from their clients with deep pockets, the two had used the money to help his homeless network financially and to revitalize the network with cell phones to patch captains and many of the individuals in the network. So the HN (Homeless Network) was more vibrant in the 21st century than it had ever been. Calls were put out, followed by intermittent texts that blanketed the London area. Everyone and anyone who knew Sherlock, John and Molly were looking for her. Molly was not only Sherlock’s new bride she was major a part of the new Holmes/Watson family. She was akin to royalty. She was lost and no one would rest until she was found.

Why had she let here guard down? Sherlock and John were totally clueless. Molly was usually so good about keeping safe.

No one at the HN had immediate information. There was a long list of people that Sherlock and John had made enemies of in their time together. So lists were drawn up and checked, who was still incarcerated? Who was dead? What were the probabilities of this person or that person doing something this bat shite crazy? Sherlock is ready to turn whoever did this into a pulpy little organic puddle of ooze on the bottom of his fine Italian shoe.

(-_-)

Molly was in mouse mode. She is being as unobtrusive and invisible as she can be. There is not much foot traffic in this run down area of town. There ahead of her were children, children wearing well worn clothes, but thanks to their benefactor they were clean and well fed. Children playing in the street at the evening hour, instead of at home. Is that strange? She moves toward them and brought her best smile to bear upon them.

“Hello,” she said in a harmonic tone. “I’m Molly, Molly Holmes. I’m looking for a way to get home to my husband Sherlock. 

The children squeal in terror and run away from her. 

(-_-)

“No, no come back,” she spoke at them, disbelief in her voice.

Running off, the children disappeared into the alleys and byways of this darker side of the city.

“You shouldn’t blame them for their actions, I’m a very scary person.” An older man steps out of the shadows and looks down at t Dr. Holmes. He has a gun pointed directly at Molly.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you, Dr. Holmes. I’m Adrian Hunter. Your husband is looking for me. I’m the serial killer, the one involved in the long string of North London murders.” Hunter gives Molly a nod, he is very nondescript looking man; strongly built but totally average to the passing observer.

“Sherlock is always correct when he makes a deduction.” Molly spoke quite defensively of her Sherlock. Molly looked at the serial killer in front of her and hoped that Sherlock is very close, very, very close.

(-_-)

Sherlock and John were fervently looking for Molly. They’d lay plans for ever expanding searches starting at the last place Molly was seen. Their Homeless Network and Serpent’s Tooth; Sherlock’s computer hacker community were also on the case as well as Greg and the Met (Yard). 

“The shops were she disappeared from are computer and men’s gift shops. I think, John that she digressed from her normal activities because she was looking to purchase a birthday present for you.”

“Oh my god,” Sherlock, “I…”

“John, she was doing what she always does. She’s a resourceful and generous woman. She deviated from her normal awareness and someone was there to take advantage of her. End of story. You are not to blame for this abduction.”

John exhaled with slumping shoulders. He is feeling a tug of guilt that Sherlock is trying to alleviate immediately. Sherlock needed John to be in full form, John was essential to Sherlock’s every deduction, essential to finding Molly. 

Any word from the homeless network or Serpent’s Tooth would come across their mobiles. They decided to go out into London proper and add themselves to the search. 

Sherlock is just as crazed about Molly’s disappearance as John, but held all in control. He had so many enemies, too many to delineate. How did he begin? And John, John was his anchor, if John lost focus over worry about Molly, Sherlock would lose it too. Molly is so much a part of their lives. Apart of his life, he blamed himself for her abduction. She is out there in the hands of his enemies. It is a thought too gruesome to contemplate.

(-_-)

Molly was once again captive. This time in at room with windows that had bars on them.  
{What would Sherlock do,} she asked herself? She thoroughly examined her room, there wasn’t much there. She tapped on the walls to determine their strength. She examined the lock on the door. Dr. Molly Holmes wasn’t the timid woman that she had once been. Being married to Sherlock, living alongside the greatest detective in the known world and the best defender of justice, John Watson, well it changed you didn’t it. It made you want to be better than you were.

Sherlock and John, she had to be strong for them. She had to do that and not get herself killed. Being held captive by a serial killer was a whole new experience for her.

Hunter came in carrying a brown bag with food in it.

“Just what do you want with me? If you were going to kill me you would have done it all ready.” Molly wasn’t going to cower before this man.

“That’s difficult isn’t it? All I want is to be able to go back to my life, a serial killer that no one knows. But your husband has pretty much made that impossible. So I’m left with few options. You just happened along at the right time, right place, but I have to admit I’m not sure what I can do to use you to my best advantage. I’m sure your husband is looking for you.”

“I may just have to keep you, as I relocate to newer hunting grounds, insurance that he won’t try to interfere with me.”

(-_-)

John’s mobile rang. He pulled it out and answered. “Hello, yes. Sherlock!”

Sherlock turned from what he was looking at. “What is it John?”

“Scout says there is talk that Molly and her captor are out at the waterfront.”

Sherlock speed dialed one of his cabbie associates. “Well have transport in 5 minutes, John.”

John finished talking to Scout and joined Sherlock. “Do we have a plan, Sherlock?”

“Find Molly and kill the bastard who took her.” Sherlock said with venom in his heart.

John was more than okay with that. Molly is the very best part of who Sherlock is now. 

“Works for me,” he said knowing that Sherlock isn’t posturing. He is for real.

“Do you have your gun,” Sherlock asks?

“Always,” John is at the ready whenever Sherlock needs him to be. “You know this maybe one of our many adversaries. We have to use a bit of finesse, Sherlock. I know that you’re really put out about this.”

“She’s,” Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to say how much Molly means to him.

“I know, Sherlock, Molly is important to both of us. We’ll get her back.”

They taxied to the area in question were they were met by one of Sherlock’s young lieutenants, Scout.

“Captain, this is going to be a sticky one,” the young man said. “We think this is a really bad guy who’s got Dr. Holmes.”

Sherlock’s mobile text alarm goes off and Cindy from Serpent’s Tooth confirms that the man behind the kidnapping is none other than the notorious North London Killer; a serial killer known for his audacious ability to outwit the police.

(-_-)

Molly took the bag of food from Adrian Hunter’s grasp. Her pride wasn’t going to keep her from satisfying her hunger. She had to maintain optimum physical strength and mental clarity. 

Hunter smiled though there was not a particle of humor in that twisted line. He lifted his left hand. Molly recognized her mobile. Flicking through the address book he hits a speed dial and puts the mobile on speaker.

“Molly!” John’s voice is desperate. “Where are you?”

“Good morning John Watson.” Hunter speaks into the mobile.

Sherlock’s voice is raging. “What do you want, Hunter?”

“Why Mister Holmes, how wonderful to hear your voice, we meet at last, well, almost.” Hunter is cool his voice filled with menace and maniacal intent.

“What will you give me for your darling wife?”

“Sherlock!” Molly yells to be heard by the mobile.

Hunter back hands her with a quick, hard blow that throws her to the ground, her face bleeding from where his hand has marked her lower lip.

“Molly!” Sherlock screams. “Hunter, you are standing in a very dangerous place,” Sherlock voice is dark, threatening.

John grips Sherlock’s shoulders firmly and looks at him with empathy. Sherlock takes a calming breath. 

“What do you want?” Sherlock’s voice is ice cold.

“I want you Holmes! I want you here at the end of my knife blade,” the mobile rings off.

“Sherlock,” John is adamant, “you can’t be serious about going in? He’ll just kill both of you.”

“John, I’m open to any and all suggestions.”

(-_-)

Molly kept her cool and looked at her serial killer captor. She shouldn’t have called out to Sherlock, it only made matters worse. She’d made it harder for Sherlock to function in this highly volatile situation. She’d heard the deep anxiety in his voice. Hopefully, John could be the voice of reason and keep him from doing weird shite.

(-_-)

John walked up to the place where Molly was being held. He didn’t carry his customary browning. He had no weapons at all except for his exceptional brave heart. Sherlock had to be tied down (almost literally) but the plan was in motion and if everything went well, possibly no one would suffer too dramatically. John told himself to take that next calming breath.

John opened the overly large warehouse door and entered into the dark interior. He walked slowly at first until his eyes became accustomed to the low lighting.

“John Watson,” Hunter sneers? “Where the hell is Sherlock Holmes? This is not what I agreed to.”

“Sherlock had a prior engagement. I’m here taking his place.” John says matter-of-factly. 

“I won’t trade you for the woman. What does he think he’s playing at?” Hunter is clearly pissed at the turn of events.

“I’m not in exchange for Molly. I’m here to join her. Now you have two of Sherlock’s most valued relationships, his wife and his one and only friend. You should count yourself lucky.”

“What kind of trick is this?” Hunter is wrong footed and then decides to take all the game pieces offered. He pulls Molly’s mobile out and dials Sherlock.

“I want transport to the nearest airport and a private plane, tanks full waiting for me.”

“Done.” 

“I can ask for anything, can’t I? Your hearts are mine. I own you, Sherlock Holmes and make no mistake I will see you bleed one way or another before this is over. You’ve taken my happiness from me, my joy of murder. If I can’t bloody my hands any more, I will make sure your hearts die with me. My final victory.”

Sherlock looked at the mobile in his hand and hoped to hell that John’s ‘suggestion’ is going to work.

(-_-)

John is thrust into Molly’s room. He had been beaten. He fell at Molly’s feet and lay there unable to even sit up.

“John, no John, you can’t be here.” Molly is terrified now. She pulls John into her embrace and rocks while she holds him tightly.

“Plan,” John mumbles, “part of the plan.”

(-_-)

Molly drove the Land Rover as Hunter took his valuable assets to a small local airport. He had taken John’s mobile from him. This was all way too easy. Holmes had something up his sleeve. Hunter is sure of it and is crazy alert for trickery. 

Molly is concerned for John who had been poorly used. His hands were zip-tied behind his back and he is in real pain from the abuse that he has endured at Hunter’s hands.

John sits in the passenger seat, Hunter behind him with a gun trained on them. 

“John? Are you okay?” Molly whispers in earnest.

“I’m going to be okay, Molly. I’ve had worse bruising after rough housing with Sherlock.” John said smiling at her. 

Molly looked at him briefly, then back to her driving. ‘Rough housing with Sherlock’ meant ‘Game in play’. A plan is in place and John is trying to tell her to be mindful of what is coming.

There is no interference from the back seat so Molly continues to query John.

“Is Sherlock okay? I’ve been so worried about him.”

“He’s a mess, but I’ve left him in good hands.”

Arriving at the small airport; a private plane is on the tarmac. Hunter tells her to stop the car, because there in front of the plane stood Sherlock Holmes, his great coat furled about him by the slight winds that are blowing. Everyone is ordered out of the car as Hunter pushes them in front of him. He advances toward Sherlock.

“Hunter, how good to see you.” Sherlock scoffed his voice full of sarcasm, “how nice of you to come out and play.” 

Hunter kept his hostages close as he moved forward. 

“What do you think you’re at?” Hunter is leery, watchful and on a hair trigger.

“I’m here to take you down, once and for all. You’ll not walk away from this.” 

Hunter laughed. “Take off that bloody coat; let’s see what you’re hiding?”

Sherlock took off his great coat and his dress coat and laid them on the ground. The wind tousled his dark curly hair as he turned around slowly to show that he carried no weapons. Hunter took a quick look around there were no other cars or people in sight. Still there could be snipers, but aside from the tower there were no other tall structures. No trees to hide in. It would be a very long shot.

“So Hunter, come on. It’s me you want. I’m the one that found you out. I’ve taken you from your killing fields. You want my blood on your hands. Come and get me. I’m right the fuck here!”

Molly and John exchange glances. John is not looking at Sherlock, not doing much more than looking at Molly in a reassuring way; in a knowing, safe way. 

Hunter lifts his gun to aim it directly at Sherlock.

“No, you don’t want to shoot me. That’s not your way. You love to see the terror in your victim’s eyes. You want to watch as you slice into the living flesh. Feel the hot blood staining you red with life and death. You’d never shoot me. You want to cut me don’t you? The knife that you carry, the death that you wield, you said you wanted me at the edge of your knife. Well, here I am Hunter, kill me if you can. There is nothing to stop you from attaining your goal.” Sherlock’s taunt is vicious, unbelievably arrogant and over the top even for him.

His hostages forgotten, Hunter comes forward his knife is quickly in his murderer’s hand. He is changed from a man to some unrecognizable fiend of unspeakable desires. His smile is filled with lust, not for sex or pleasure, but only pain, depravity and the utter destruction of his victim.

John pushes Molly as far away from their current position as he can and then knocks her to the ground and places himself over her body. “Still,” he murmurs to her.

“Nevermore!” Sherlock speaks in his rich, loud baritone. Someone is listening. 

Hunter stops in his tracks, the knife in his hand clatters to the ground and he follows it soon after. His eyes glaze as Sherlock comes towards him and kicks the knife far away. 

Sherlock heads for John and Molly. He removes a small pen knife from his pocket and clips the zip tie that holds John captive. Then he and Molly help John up. 

Molly and Sherlock are intent upon looking to John’s injuries, while he tries to get them to stop. 

“I’m really just dinged up a bit, nothing to worry about. Okay, okay you two. I’m totally okay.”

Sherlock turns his attention to Molly. She has a large bruise on her jaw where Hunter hit her. 

“God, Molly, I thought I’d lost you for…” He doesn’t finish the words just gathers her diminutive body into his long limbed embrace. As he hugs the breath out of her, she reaches for John and the group hug is so satisfying and intense that they were startled when the silent black Jaguars start arriving; eleven in total.

Agents disembark from the cars. Hunter is scooped up and deposited unceremoniously into a black van that has just arrived. 

“So, I guess we can go home now,” John states, “there will be no further problems from the North London Killer.” They enter the nearest car that will take them back to Baker street. 

(-_-)

“Okay, John, what happened?” Molly looks at John first. “Why were Mycroft’s people there and what happened to Hunter?”

“I think I will make some tea, Mrs. Hudson brought over some fresh biscuits.” He moves into the kitchen area and puts the kettle on leaving Sherlock to face Molly’s questions.

“Sherlock?”

“It was a simple solution. I was a bit worked up by your kidnapping and had to rely on John to straighten me out.” 

“What exactly was the simple solution that left a serial killer brain dead without a mark on him?” Molly’s curiosity was growing too large to contain.

“The cell phones, Molly. Yours and John’s were completely under our control. It was childishly easy to access Hunter’s phone. So we had three phones on his person. The cell phones were used as Directed Energy Weapons (DEW) a rather inconspicuous way of adversely affecting the health of an individual who has been targeted.”

“Serpents Tooth,” Molly understood now. Serpent’s Tooth* is Sherlock’s other network; a network of computer hackers that assisted him on many of his cases as well as his homeless network. 

“Yes with the access to his location and the unauthorized use of satellite technology Serpent’s Tooth ‘neutralized’ Hunter.” John said as he brought back a tea tray and served tea and biscuits all around.

“Microwave emitting energy pulses were used to permanently disable Hunter who will never hunt again.” Sherlock said, “Triangulation with pinpoint accuracy; welcome to the 21st century of crime fighting, but not something that we can advertise. As it is not yet and may never be a legal method in hostage negotiations.”

They sat in silence enjoying the company and the comfort of home. Molly was taking it all in and wondering just how bad everything is; then remembering that Mycroft’s task was ever to iron out the wrinkles in Sherlock’s life. 

“Well, I’m headed for bed. Don’t bother to wake me early tomorrow, Sherlock. I’m sleeping in.”

Sherlock smiled at John as Molly stood hugged and kissed him as he left and walked him to the door. Sherlock took out his mobile and texted.

{Work for you, interesting cases only, in exchange for total security – John and Molly. SH}

Almost instantly, a reply came across.

{Done. MH}

Sherlock pocketed his mobile and took his lovely new bride into his arms. His life revolved around Molly and John now. They were his world and nothing and no one would ever be able to touch them again.

He kissed her tenderly being careful of her bruised jaw. 

“Let me get you some ice for your jaw, love.” Sherlock said with a new found compassion. He settled Molly into their bed and stayed with her until she slept comfortably. 

Not requiring very much sleep at all he withdrew from their bedroom to pick up the latest case file folders that one of Lestrade’s people had brought over for him; realizing, now, that Mycroft would be adding to pile soon enough. He returned to his new bride undressed and slid into bed with the love of his life. By the soft glow of a reader’s light he examined his case load. Molly snuggled into his side and Sherlock protectively pulled her close. Love was a strange mixture of hormones and data that never quantified properly. Right now all he cared about was keeping all the many parts of his heart safe.


End file.
